Mourning Beneath the Moon
by Angelstreasure
Summary: Where was Remus Lupin the night of James and Lily's murder?


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I'm sure JK Rowling has better things to do than write fanfiction about her own stories.

Mourning Beneath the Moon

A light breeze ruffled the leaves of an enormous knotted oak as it danced through the star-dusted October sky. The ancient tree draped its branches past the single, tiny window of the small flat, nearly obstructing the full moon casting a silver glow through the lonely window. Curiously, the slightly dirty pane was guarded by seven silver bars, glowing from the moonlight and their own, powerful enchantment. These bars could not be broken, nor ripped from the wall by mere strength; only the proper spell could remove them from their place.

If one were to gaze through the window, assuming one could reach the third floor of the building, one would see a tall, handsome man, coal-black hair illuminated by the moonlight, sitting in a torn, faded armchair, which bore the unmistakable signs of tooth marks, as though gnawed upon by a large animal. Even more strangely, the man seemed to be having a one-sided conversation with a smoke-grey wolf, which appeared to be giving the man his undivided attention. The wolf's molten gold eyes bore straight into the man's sparkling grey.

"I wish you could come with me, too, Moony. Of course I understand that you want to visit Prongs and Lily. But how would I look walking down the street with a wolf?" The wolf did not respond; he simply stared. Sirius shifted uncomfortably, unnerved by those yellow orbs burning into his own. "Stop making me feel guilty, Remus! Oh, _come on_, it's me, Padfoot! Do you think I _enjoy _this? Of course I miss the old days, when we could see our friend without having to look past our shoulders every two seconds for Death Eaters. Of course I, of all people, hate to be the responsible one, the party killer! {Remus snorted at this remark} But you know as well as I that we just can't risk it."

_I know,_ though Remus,_ I just wish it could be different. _Remus finally dropped his gaze from his friend and trotted across the room, stopping at a tooth- marked shelf, an ancient radio perched on top. Sirius rose from his chair, and followed the werewolf.

"You want me to turn this on for you before I leave?" The werewolf blinked. Sirius flicked his want at the radio, which emitted the crackling voice of the budding new reporter for the _Daily Prophet, _Rita Skeeter, who appeared to be interviewing Minister Cornelius Fudge.

"…not to worry. Our Aurors are cracking down on these so -called 'Death Eaters'". Remus growled, deep and low.

"I don't blame you, Moony. I think it's a load of rubbish too." He flicked his wand once more, and the station switched to _The Wizarding News._ Sirius made as if to leave, but paused before turning the knob. He turned slowly, kneeling to reach eye level with his shadow grey companion. "Don't worry. I promise, everything is going to work out, you'll see. Just wait. Soon the Marauders will walk free once more." Remus reared, placing his huge paws upon Sirius' shoulders.

_I can only pray this will be true, my friend_ he silently told the dark haired man. Sirius, much to Remus' annoyance, ruffled the fur on the werewolf's head, as if to show he understood. He then rose and left the room, bolting it magically behind him. Remus curled up near the radio and listened to the latest news of the war outside his flat, reflecting upon the fact that the room was designed to keep a monster from wreaking havoc upon the world, while countless witches and wizards rushed to the side of, or at least turned a blind eye toward a real monster dwelling amongst them._ That's what we need to do to stop Voldemort, _he thought, _lock him in a room with only Rita Skeeter for company as his world crumbles outside. I doubt even he can keep his sanity while that irritating woman babbles on._ Remus snorted at his musings. _It's finally happening. I'm really losing it!_

Slowly, Remus slipped into a daze induced by the potion he had taken, as well as his need to be numb to the world determined to shut him out. Suddenly, the voice of the radio jarred him from this dreams. "Breaking news, I repeat, this is just in: James and Lily Potter have been found dead in their burning home in Godrick's Hollow, allegedly murdered by He Who Must Not Be Named himself." Remus leaped up, ears pricked towards the radio. "Sources report that the Potter's one-year old son, Harry, has survived this attack, although his whereabouts are currently unknown. If this is true, young Harry is the only living thing to have survived the A_vada Kadavra_ curse. _I must get to Harry"_ thought Remus, _I must get him to Sirius, his godfather. _

The next words of the reporter petrified Remus as thoroughly as a Basilisk's glare. "It has just been reported that Sirius Black, a close friend of the Potters, has murdered another friend, Peter Pettigrew, along with nineteen muggle bystanders. Witnesses say Pettigrew shouted 'Lily and James, Sirius? How could you!' This raises the suspicion that Black betrayed his friends, perhaps turning them in to You Know Who. Fortunately, he was subdued by Aurors and is to be tried by the Wizengamot for murder on the tenth of…"

_No!_ Remus could not bear to hear anymore. A white hot, wild rage welled up from deep within him, from a dark pit in his heart which he had tried to suppress since the day he opened his newly golden eyes in a hospital bed, long, long ago. With a livid roar, the werewolf leaped, throwing the radio to the floor, smashing it to pieces. Yet the fire within him demanded more. He flew across the room, a raging shadow, a weeping tempest, and slammed into the door, ripping the enchanted wood with his claws and fangs. However, the magic was too strong; the door held. It seemed to taunt him whispering, "Some friend you are! Trapped within your own body while your friends tear each other to pieces."

Remus, his strength dwindling along with his blind fury, sank to the floor. He knew he could not break from his prison, not until the moon at last sank beyond a burning sky, and he could use his wand once more. A long, melodic howl burst from his chest, laced with the frost of desolation, and the tattered remnants of a shattered soul.


End file.
